Wolf of Flame
by BloodofWolves
Summary: Rildri and Mildri are dwarf brothers from a different country, traveling together. They come into Middle Earth and are confronted by the wizard, Gandalf. Because of Rildri's ability with flame, the wizard invites them on a quest. But Mildri is considered too young, despite his fighting abilities, and is left behind... At the same time, you shouldn't separate family.
1. A Company

**Before you read:**

**Note that Rildri and Mildri are from my own original trilogy "Aragoth" (it isn't published so it isn't a crossover.) All 3 are published on my Wattpad ("Goddess_of_Stories") so I suggested reading them, as references are made to the storyline. But most references are explained and if you are confused by the ones that are not, PM me and I'll gladly explain it to you.**

**Also, Rildri and Mildri have a different dwarven culture, as their native tongue is called "Dharzûl" and their aging is different; until the age of 26, they are considered 'dwarflings', and at 26 they are merely teens, only full adults at 36. Originally, Rildri and Mildri were born as princes in the dwarf kingdom of Maljorn (similar to Erebor) but because they were attacked, they were sent away to be protected while the dwarves rebuilt. Later, while Rildri was in his teens and Mildri was a dwarfling, they went back to their home and reclaimed their positions as princes and Rildri was crowned; certain events cut Rildri's reign short (these are the basics that you'd need to know to understand them.) Know that both these characters are coming from painful pasts and are certainly different from Middle Earth's dwarves. Again, I recommend reading Aragoth on my Wattpad to understand. Mildri is mentioned to be a 'dwarf-turned-werewolf-turned-angel' and Rildri is called a 'dwarf-turned-demon-turned-vampire,' and if anyone wants an explanation, just PM me.**

**Thanks for reading!**

•••

The sky was blue and dotted with white clouds. Trees swayed with the wind and birds chirped.

"We're lost, aren't we?"

"No, we're not. The ink just got smudged."

"You just _had_ to accidentally drop the map into that pond, didn't you?"

"You tripped me!"

"You're an angel with wings, and you can't keep your balance? Besides, it was an accident."

A young dwarf lad with blackish-brown hair, whom was drenched, scowled, holding a damp map in his hands. "Fine then, you read the map if you're so clever, _your highness. _And my wings don't affect my awareness."

The blond dwarf beside him, about 2-3 inches taller, rolled his eyes and took the map, holding it close to his face and squinting to read the smudged text.

"Where are we facing?" he asked. "Which direction, I mean."

"North-east," the younger dwarf replied.

"Then this must be the Brandywine River," the elder muttered, looking at the large river beside them. "We're close."

"Or, rather far. I don't want to be here longer than I have to be with all these wild animals roaming about at night."

"Mildri!" the blond exclaimed with a laugh. "You are a dwarf-turned-werewolf-turned angel, who has fought demons alongside gods, and you're afraid of a few foxes and badgers?"

"And you, Rildri, are a dwarf-turned-demon, who had the moral strength to overcome an evil god's influence, and yet you can't find your way with a map!"

"We aren't from here, and therefore I have no idea how to navigate. And- Brandywine? Shire? What kind of names do these people come up with? And _hobbits!_"

"Dovaen," Mildri said simply. Then Rildri hushed.

They continued walking through the forest, quietly grumbling about the flies and gnats. As soon as they stepped out of the woods, they gasped and stared.

Before them were rolling green hills, beautiful and spring green. They could see dirt paths leading through, and built into the hills were _houses._

Short creatures walked about, wearing colorful and fine clothing and holding baskets. Groups of children ran about the fields, giggling and some were climbing trees.

But what stood out was the size of their big, hairy feet.

The brothers had read of hobbits, but seeing them in person was different. As they walked down the path and the sky dimmed, the hobbits gave them either curious or mistrusting glances. They weren't surprised; they were dwarves and that made them different.

Not only that, but they had swords and daggers and bows. They smiled at those they passed ("Good evening." "Hello." "Excuse me, but do you know the way to Bag End…?") and kept walking to their destination.

They soon walked up a hill and came to a beautiful green door that had a glowing blue mark on it. They wondered what the symbol was supposed to mean.

Nevertheless, Rildri knocked, and they waited a moment.

Moments later the door opened and a short man- a hobbit – looked at them, then huffed, to their surprise.

"There are _more_ of you?"

Gandalf had told them about the other dwarves, and they had been excited to meet more of their own kind in a different country. But they were that bad to annoy a hobbit enough that he was greeting them rudely?

They only smiled warmly. "Mildri and Rildri," they said in unison, bending to one knee. They stood, "Sons of Fira."

The hobbit stared at them for a moment. These dwarves seemed different; they were not covered in weapons, but the blond merely had a sword at his hip and a shield on his back, and both looked like they cost a fortune. Around his waist was a jeweled leather belt with small knives. The brunette had a sword and a quiver on his back, along with a bow. They both wore blue tunics with iron breastplates, and over that they were fur coats. Their boots were small, making their feet seem tiny compared to the boots of the dwarves inside. The taller dwarf's hair was a lustrous gold, wavy and shining in the light that came from within the hole. He had the deepest blue eyes Bilbo had ever seen. The shorter dwarf had blackish-brown hair, bangs that were swept to his right. His eyes were a deep chocolate.

They had a regal air about them, and it seemed to demand respect; their appearances magnified that.

"I suppose you can come in," Bilbo grumbled.

They both stopped to wipe their feet outside. Rildri came in first, his brother following. "Wow," Mildri murmured, looking around at the clean hobbit hole. "This looks nice." They took off their coats and hung them up on the rack, then put their weapons on a bench, careful to not disturb anything.

"Thank you," Bilbo muttered. "At least you two have some manners!" The brothers only smiled. Then they heard voices and glanced at each other.

Bilbo frowned. "Do you not know them?"

"We aren't from Middle Earth," Rildri said. "So, no, we haven't met them before."

"Oh," was all the hobbit said before hurrying into his kitchen.

Rildri and Mildri positioned themselves near the kitchen but not in it, watching the dwarves. There were only 4 of them, and they assumed the rest were coming, as they had been told of 13 dwarves. They picked up the names, as they had keen hearing; Balin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili.

Soon there was another knock on the door, and they watched Bilbo stomp to the door, grumbling about bothering somebody else and if this were a joke, then it was in very poor taste. He pulled the door open and 8 dwarves fell in on top of each other, grumbling and yelling at each other.

Behind them, an elderly man in gray robes bent down and smiled at Bilbo. The hobbit sighed, "Gandalf."

•••

Rildri and Mildri looked on with amusement as the dwarves raided the pantry. Bilbo rushed around, yelling at one dwarf to put food down and another to put the chairs back.

Looking at the brothers, he frowned. "Aren't you eating?"

"We're fine," Mildri said. Rildri suddenly gave Mildri a look, and the younger dwarf nodded in understanding. Ignoring a confused hobbit, they went to the door without a word. Outside, Mildri pulled on his tunic to expose his neck and shoulder.

Rildri gripped him, and fangs slid out of his gums. He sniffed along Mildri's skin for a moment and suddenly bit. Mildri tensed, digging his fingernails into Rildri's shoulders as the elder dwarf drank. As soon as Rildri pulled back, Mildri fixed his tunic and they went back inside.

They were used to this; quick feedings to satiate Rildri's vampirism.

When they came back in, they found that the dwarves were singing a song, tossing plates between each other and into the kitchen.

"And when you've finished, if any are whole...  
SEND THEM DOWN THE HALL TO ROLL!"

The dwarves burst into laughter as Bilbo, Rildri and Mildri saw that the plates were stacked neatly. Then one young dwarf wearing a knitted cardigan and light brown hair turned and saw the brothers. "Who are you?" he asked.

_**Knock, knock, knock.**_

The dwarves all froze and became quiet.

"Who's that?" Mildri asked, and the dwarves all looked at them. But they said nothing.

"He is here," Gandalf said in a grave tone. The dwarves filed into the foyer and Bilbo opened the door.

There stood a tall dwarf, one that looked so similar to one of their own family members that Mildri nearly cried out in recognition. He only made a syllable ("Fir-") before Rildri clamped his hand over his brother's mouth.

The dwarf looked at them and his eyes narrowed, but instead of addressing them, he looked to the wizard. "Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!" Bilbo exclaimed, flustered.

"There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company; Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said.

"So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know. But I fail to see why that is relevant."

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!"

The dwarves laughed, and Rildri huffed, crossing his arms as his eyes narrowed. "Are you hiring him to be a warrior or a burglar?"

The dwarves fell silent and moved away. Thorin narrowed his eyes at the blond dwarf and approached him, standing 2 feet away. "And who are you?"

Rildri wasn't intimidated. He knew this 'Oakenshield' was going to criticize him because he had questioned him, and he was more than used to it. After all, he had been a king before.

"Rildri," he said, returning Thorin's stern look. Part of him didn't want Thorin, or any of these dwarves, to know his true name. "Prince of Maljorn."

"Prince?"

"My uncle was king, and my mother was his sister."

"What is a prince doing in these parts? I've never heard your name."

"Because, Thorin," Gandalf intervened, "Neither of these two dwarves are of Middle Earth. Rather, they are from Aragoth."

"Aragoth?" Balin asked. "I have heard of Maljorn. Your uncle was Firrin?"

Rildri nodded.

"I wasn't aware he had nephews."

"No one did, apparently, until I became king."

"You're a king?" a young brunette dwarf with a stubble asked with wide eyes. "Then why are you here?"

"Used to be a king," Rildri corrected. "I kinda died. Or, was killed. But a lot of things happened and I came back."

"You were possessed, you were about to kill Gridan, and I reacted," Mildri mumbled.

For a moment, there was silence. Thorin looked at them with a harsh gaze. "What is your weapon of choice?"

"A sword and shield, and I can handle a bow, though I'm not my brother."

"I'm a marksman," Mildri said, his voice soft. "And a swordsman. But I'm better with my bow; I never miss."

"Warriors, then?"

"Yes."

Thorin's narrowed eyes fell to Mildri. "Your brother doesn't seem to be."

The younger dwarf, who had shuffled behind his brother, looked down.

"How old are you?"

"29," Mildri said quietly. The dwarves gasped. "You're a child," Thorin growled, saying the last word with distaste.

Mildri looked to his brother to say something; they had different systems for ages. But Rildri said nothing.

"And you?"

"80," Rildri replied. Thorin only nodded.

Mildri stared at his brother as the other dwarves moved back to the tables. He felt uncomfortable; now the Company thought him a silly child and Rildri an adult.

"What of the meeting at Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked, as Thorin ate.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." The Company murmured their joy.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" said Dwalin.

"They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." The dwarves grumbled in disappointment.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," said Gandalf. The wizard took out a map that had been his pocket and spread it out on the table as Bilbo left and came back with a candle.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read, holding the candle up.

"Aye. Oin had read the portents, and the portents say it is time!" Gloin announced.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold: when the irds of old return to the mountain, the reign of the beast will end!"

Bilbo looked concerned. "What beast?"

"Well, that would be a reference t Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather; teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks- extremely fond of precious metals!" Bofur exclaimed.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo said stiffly.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" Ori exclaimed, standing up.

Dori scowled. "Sit down," he said, pulling his brother back into his seat.

"The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen. Not thirteen of the best, nor brightest." He glanced at Rildri, "Rather, 14."

The dwarves immediately began to object. "Who you callin' dim?" "Watch it!" "No!"

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, to the last dwarf!" Fili yelled, and the Company cheered.

"And you forget, we have a _wizard _in our company! Gandalf would have killed _hundreds _of dragons in his time!" Kili jumped in.

"Oh, well, now, I wouldn't say…" Gandalf started.

"How many, then?" Dori asked.

"I, uh, what?"

"How many dragons have you killed? Go on! Give us a number!"

Gandalf embarrassedly coughed on his pipe smoke, and the dwarves jumped to their feet, arguing. Thorin stood and bellowed.

"_**Atkât!**_ If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" The dwarves cheered.

"You forget; the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," said Balin.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," said Gandalf. Twiddling his fingers, he produced a dwarvish key, ornately wrought. Thorin stared at it in wonder. "How came you by this?"

"It was give to me by your father, by Thráin, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf handed the key to Thorin, and everyone looked on in wonder.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," Fili said. Rildri rolled his eyes.

Gandalf pointed to the map. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in!" Kili said.

"If we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori said.

"And a good one too. An expert, I'd imagine," said Bilbo.

"And are you?" asked Gloin.

"Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert! Hey hey!"

"Me? No, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," said Balin. Bilbo nodded in agreement.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," said Dwalin. At this, he also glanced at Mildri. Again, the hobbit nodded in agreement. The dwarves began to argue.

Gandalf grew angry and drew up to his full height, casting shadows over them all. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" His voice was echoing and deep.

The dwarves stared at him in fear, then the wizard returned to his normal self. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"What of these two?" Dwalin asked.

"Rildri is one of the best warriors in his country, and has more experience than any of you will ever have. He has fought alongside gods! Not only that, but he holds control over flame."

"What!?"

"Impossible!"

"Lies!"

Gandalf only smiled. "Rildri, if you'd please."

The blond dwarf smiled and he stood. He held out his outstretched hand, palm up. After a few seconds, a tiny orange flame flickered in his hand.

The dwarves gasped and cried out, staring at the flame. Rildri heightened it, making the flame bigger until he was cupping it in his palm.

"Okay, okay! Stop that!" Bilbo exclaimed, fearing for his furniture. Rildri grinned and extinguished it.

"You can control flames," said Fili. "So does that mean you could shield us from Smaug's fire?"

"Controlling fire that is not my own is more difficult, especially a dragon's. I could defend myself, maybe 2 or 3 other people, but 14 would kill me from the amount of energy it would take."

"13," Thorin corrected. "Your brother will not be coming."

"Why!?" Mildri immediately demanded. "I'm just as skilled as Rildri is!"

"And you're a child," Thorin replied.

Mildri's face flushed with both anger and embarrassment. He turned and stormed out of the room.

"Give him the contract," said Thorin. Bilbo protested, but Balin stood and handed him a long contract.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth." A similar contract was handed to Rildri.

Thorin leaned towards Gandalf. "I cannot guarantee their safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for their fates."

"...Agreed."

"'Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any.' Hmm. Seems fair. 'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations …. Evisceration …. Incineration?"

Rildri looked up, then started to read.

"Think furnace with wings," said Bofur.

"Air, I need air…"

"Flash of light, searing pain and then _poof! _You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo breathed heavily, staring straight ahead as the others stared at him. "No," he said, then suddenly swayed and fainted.

"You're very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf muttered as the dwarves went to Bilbo.

•••

"It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkerers, toymakers; hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors among us."

"Old warriors."

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they answered. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that."

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor."

Thorin held out the key. "From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

"Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

As the dwarves gathered in the living room, smoking their pipes, Rildri sat and listened.

"Far over, the Misty Mountains cold….  
To dungeons deep, and caverns old.  
We must away, ere break of day….  
To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height  
the winds were moaning in the night.  
The fire was red, it flaming spread  
the trees like torches, blazed with light."

Mildri walked in and sat down next to Rildri, and they leaned against each other, both recalling old memories brought on by the song.


	2. Heat

"You're leaving me," Mildri said quietly as the dwarves saddled their ponies and rechecked their supplies.

Rildri smiled at him. "I'll come back. I know you're nearly an adult in Aragoth, but you _are _still a child."

"You're barely an adult!"

"Mills," Rildri said with a heavy sigh.

The brunette scowled. "We were going to do this together."

"Things change."

"Rildri! Come on, we're going," came Kili's voice. Rildri gave his brother a small smile before pulling himself onto the pony he had been given.

Mildri backed up and sat on one of the hobbit's porch steps, watching the ponies carry away the Company.

•••

Bilbo's eyes slowly opened.

He looked around, then got up and stretched. Then he noticed how silent it was; he walked around the halls, expecting to run into the dwarves. Everything looked clean and tidy, as if nothing had ever happened.

He walked into his study and heard the soft sound of a page turning. He looked to the floor and saw a young dwarrow curled up there on the carpet, his back pressed against the wall beneath the window. He was reading a book, not noticing the hobbit.

Bilbo frowned. "Where are the others?"

"They left," was the short reply. The boy didn't even look up.

"Already?" he asked, wondering if the dwarves had had breakfast. The dwarrow nodded.

"What is your name again?"

"Mildri Iron-Shield."

"Didn't you and your brother say 'Sons of Fira'?"

"Yes, but we have different fathers, and my father's surname is Iron-Shield. That's what I use when we're apart. When we introduce ourselves together, we say 'Sons of Fira.' When I'm not there, he uses 'Ice-Shatter.'

"Ah," said Bilbo, still slightly confused.

"They left the contract. I think you could catch up."

Bilbo walked into the kitchen and saw the contract on the table. Then he frowned, "Are you going to stay here…?"

Mildri shrugged. "I'll probably leave in the afternoon. I could stay at Bree."

"I think you should go. You _are _a dwarf. I'm only a hobbit."

"I'm too young," he said in a sarcastic imitation of Thorin. Then he huffed and rolled his eyes.

Bilbo couldn't help but smile as he looked at the contract.

About 10 minutes later, both were running out of Bag End. (As soon as Bilbo had started packing, Mildri had jumped up and done the same, claiming that he would follow them to Bree.)

As they ran through hobbiton, jumping over pumpkins and fences, neighbors stared. "Aye, Mr. Bilbo! Where you off to?"

"Can't stop, I'm already late!"

"Late for what?"

"_I'm going on an adventure!_"

Up ahead, Rildri was conversing with Balin about Maljorn as they rode through the forest path.

"How long did you rule?"

"For a few weeks," Rildri replied. Then he muttered, "Being king isn't all that people say it is. Rather, it's difficult and aggravating and all in all, people use you for their own advantages. There are always people who want your head on a silver plate. Who would ever _want _to be king?"

"I do," Fili called from behind.

Rildri turned in the saddle. "So you want to be responsible for deaths, wars, and if you make a single little mistake, have everyone know and criticize you for it?"

Fili frowned.

"Wait! _Wait!_"

"Whoa, whoa," Rildri said to his pony as they all stopped. They turned. Bilbo ran to Balin, holding out the contract as he caught his breath. "I signed it!'

Rildri saw Mildri and frowned. "You were supposed to stay behind."

"I can go with you to Bree!"

Rildri frowned, then held his hand out. Mildri took it and pulled himself onto the pony, sitting behind Rildri.

Balin examined the contract with a pocket-glass. "Everything appears to be in order," he said with a smile. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The dwarves cheered while Thorin looked unimpressed. "Give him a pony."

"No, no, no, that won't be necessary. I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once – WAGH!" Fili and Kili rode up on either side of him and grabbed his arms, lifting up and setting him on Myrtle.

Bilbo gripped the reins in a very uncomfortable way, looking quite terrified.

"C'mon, Nori, pay up!" Oin called. Sacks of money began to fly back and forth. Rildri's hand shot up and caught one.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn't," said Gandalf.

"What did you think?"

For a moment, Gandalf didn't answer. Then his hand shot up and got a small bag of gold, and he chuckled. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."

Suddenly Bilbo sneezed loudly. "All this horse hair… I'm having a reaction." He dug into his pockets for a handkerchief, only to find nothing.

"No, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around."

The line came to a halt and the dwarves objected, asking what was wrong.

"What on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked.

"I forgot my handkerchief."

Bofur pulled out a filthy handkerchief and tossed it to Bilbo. "Here! Use this." Bilbo caught it and looked at it with disgust; the Company laughed.

"Move out!" Dwalin called, and they kept walking.

Mildri smiled at Bilbo and took out a white cloth, handing it to him. "It's not much, but it's clean." Bilbo returned the smile gratefully before taking it to blow his nose.

"You'll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end," said Gandalf. "You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead."

Soon the Company came to Bree and a few dwarves were sent in to gather supplies.

"You're staying here, got that?" Rildri said sternly to Mildri.

The youth hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

Now fully restocked, the Company remounted their ponies.

"Your brother will stay there?" Balin asked.

"He better," Rildri muttered.

They continued their journey and night fell. They set up camp near the edge of a cliff and each set out bedrolls. Gandalf, Fili, Kili and Rildri were the only ones awake. Bilbo woke at Gloin's snoring and huffed, disgusted.

Bilbo walked to Myrtle, holding an apple. As he fed it to her, he pet her mane. "How are you, girl? That's a good girl. Our little secret, Myrtle; you must tell know one."

Suddenly there was a screeching sound in the night and Bilbo was startled. Hurrying over to the others, he asked, "What was that?"

Kili looked up. "Orcs," he said. Thorin, who had been dozing, jerked awake at the word.

"Orcs?" Bilbo asked.

"Throat cutters," Fili said. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep," said Kili. "Quick and quiet, no screams… Just lots of blood."

Bilbo looked away, frightened. The two brothers began to laugh.

Thorin stood, glaring at his sister's sons. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Kili looked down. "We didn't mean anything by it…"

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin walked over and stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the valley.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy got there first."

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King."

_Azog held up the head of King Thror, roaring in triumph. He flung the head, which bounced and rolled to Thorin's feet._

_Thorin cried out in horror."NOOO!"_

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."

_The dwarves were fleeing for their lives, overpowered._

"That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince, facing down the Pale Orc."

_Thorin faced Azog. The Orc swung his mace and knocked away Thorin's shield, then his sword. Thorin fel down an embankment and landed on the ground._

"He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield."

_Azog leapt to smash Thorin, but the prince grabbed an oaken branch from the ground and managed to roll away in time. Azog continued wielding his mace against Thorin, who was still on the ground, but he blocked the mace with the oaken branch. Azog swung one last time, but Thorin, grabbing a word nearby, cut off Azog's left arm, his mace arm, from below the elbow. Azog clutched the stump of his arm as he howled in pain._

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken."

_Azog was rushed into Moria by other orcs. Thorin, yelling, rallied the dwarves to battle. They stopped fleeing and returned to battle, fighting ferociously; they now seemed to have the advantage._

"Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived."

_The battlefield was covered in the corpses of dwarves and orcs; the surviving dwarves wept with one another over their losses. A younger Balin and Dwalin hugged and put their heads together as they wept. Balin, teary-eyed, looked up and saw Thorin framed in the sunlight, holding his oaken branch._

"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

Thorin turned away from the view beyond the cliff; the entire Company was awake and standing in awe, staring in awe. Thorin walked between them to the fire.

"But the Pale Orc. What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Across the valley, on another cliff, stood a group of wargs and orcs, spying on the Company.

"Send word to the Master," said the leader, Yazneg. "We have found the Dwarf-scum."

Back in the camp, Rildri made a snort. "We encountered orcs when we first came here. A pretty big group of them, too. Ever fought a dovae?"

The dwarves looked at him with questioning looks.

"It's what we call the race of demons, from the Underworld." His voice dropped. "Black-skinned things, beady red eyes, with ripped black and red wings. Their claws are long and sharp, a single slice could cut your gut open. There's different kinds of them, too- the common ones are easy enough to kill on their own. A group is near impossible. There's Gadikai- those are awful. They take on the voice and appearance of someone you love, and not even a god can tell the difference."

Fili, Kili, Ori and Bilbo looked frightened; the others, even Thorin, looked greatly disturbed.

"You've fought them before?" Oin asked.

Rildri nodded. "Of course. Hell, I _was _one of them!"

"What!?" Ori looked at him in disbelief.

Rildri grinned. "Yup. I spent about 3 years in the Underworld as a slave, making weapons. I had dovaen blood and their wings, so that made me a demon."

•••

"Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?"

The Company was walking through a forest, rain pouring down. Using his heat, Rildri was keeping himself and his own pony dry. A few dwarves were giving him dirty looks, jealous.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until te rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, then you should find yourself another wizard."

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked.

"What?"

"Other wizards?"

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue wizards; you know, I've quite forgotten their names."

"And who is the fifth?"

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown."

"Is he a great Wizard or is he… more like you?"

Gandalf looked slightly offended. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

The rain soon stopped and they came to an old farmhouse in ruins. "We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili! Look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them," said Thorin.

"A farmer and his family used to live here," murmured Gandalf, looking around at the ruined house.

"Oin, Gloin."

"Aye?"

"Get a fire going."

"Right you are."

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," said Gandalf.

"I have already told you," Thorin said. "I will not go near that place."

"Why not? We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"_Help? _A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep."

Gandalf grew angry and he stomped off, leaving.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?" asked Bilbo.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense!"

"Who's that?"

"_Myself, Master Baggins! _I've had enough of dwarves for one day!"

"Come on, Bombur, we're hungry," Thorin called.

"Is he coming back?" Bilbo asked Balin. The dwarf looked unsure.

The sky became dark and the Company was eating the dinner of soup that Bombur had cooked.

"He's been a long time," Bilbo muttered, looking anxious.

"Who?" asked Bofur.

"Gandalf."

"He's a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor; take this to the lads." Bofur handed two bowls to Bilbo. As the hobbit walked away, Bombur tried to take more soup; Bofur swatted his hand away. "Stop it, you've had plenty!"

Bilbo walked into the dark, to where Fili and Kili were watching the ponies. He held the bowls out to the lads, but they were both staring into the dark, not moving.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies," Kili said.

"Only we've encountered a… slight problem," said Fili.

"We had sixteen..."

"Not there's fourteen."

They examined the group of ponies. "Daisy and Bungo are missing," Kili said.

"Well, that's not good. That is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" asked Bilbo.

"Uhh, no. Let's not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought _you _might like to look into it," said Fili.

Bilbo looked around and saw some recently uprooted trees, laying on the ground. "Well, uh… look, something big uprooted these trees."

"That was our thinking," said Kili.

"Something very big… and possibly quite dangerous."

"Hey! There's a light. Over here! Stay down," said Fili.

They quietly ran through the forest towards it. Seeing that it was a fire, they ducked behind a large log as they heard harsh laughter.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

"Trolls," said Kili

Fili and Kili ran towards the fire. Bilbo started to follow, then returned to grab the two bowls of soup, following them again. They hid behind a tree and saw a massiv mountain troll walking toward the fire, carrying a pony under each arm.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I think they're going to eat them, we have to do something!"

"Yes, you should! Mountains trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so _small, _they'll never see you!"

Bilbo paled. "No, no, no…"

"It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you," Kili insisted.

"If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl."

Fili and Kili pushed Bilbo towards the fire. The hobbit began to whisper the dwarf's instructions to himself, trying to remember them, but gets mixed up.

"Twice like a barn owl, once like a brown…? Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Bilbo turned around, but Fili and Kili were out of sight.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow," Bert the troll grumbled.

"Quit yer' griping. These ain't sheep. These are West Nags!" Tom claimed.

"I don't like horse," said William. "I never have. Not enough fat on them."

"Well, it's better than the little old farmer. All skin and bone, he was. I'm still picking bits of him out of me teeth!"

William sneezed into the pot that was boiling over a fire.

"Well, that's lovely, it is, a floater!" Bert said, with sarcasm.

"It might improve the flavor!" said Tom.

"Ah! There's more where that came from." He began to sneeze more, but Bert grabbed him by the nose. Bilbo, unseen, snuck behind them.

"Oh, no you don't!" Bert said, throwing William down. "Sit down!"

William sneezed again, this time into a handkerchief he pulls out from behind him. He sniffed for a long time. Bilbo, reaching the pen in which the ponies are held, attempted to untie the ropes. He hid as William turned towards him.

"I hope you're going to gut these nags," said William. "But I like the stinky parts."

Bert hit William with his ladle, and William squealed in pain. "I said, sit down!" Bert snapped.

"I'm starving! Tom said. "Are we having horse tonight or what?"

"Shut your cakehole. You'll eat what I give ya'."

As William pulled out his handkerchief, Bilbo saw that a long knife was tied to the troll's belt. Unable to untie the ropes, he attempted to get the knife from the troll.

"How come he's the cook? Everything tastes the same. Everything tastes like chicken," Tom complained.

"Except the chicken," said William.

"It tastes like fish!"

"I'm just saying, a little appreciation would be nice. 'Thank you very much, Bert,' 'Lovely stew, Bert'; how hard is that? Hmm, it just needs a sprinkle of squirrel dung."

William picked up a mug of drink, but Bert got mad. "There, that's my grog!"

"Uhh, uhh, sorry," said William. Bert hit him with his ladle, knocking him down. William got back up as Bert tasted the soup in his ladle.

"Ooh, beautifully balanced, that is," he said. He let Tom taste some of the soup and Tom gulped it down. "Wrap your tongue around that, mate. Good, isn't it? That's why I'm the cook!"

Bilbo snuck behind William and tries to reach for the knife, but William stood and scratched his bottom. Bilbo looked disgusted.

"That's my guts rumbling! I've got to snaffle something. Flesh or meat, flesh!"

William, about to sneeze, reached behind for his handkerchief, but accidentally grabbed Bilbo instead, sneezing all over him. He then realizes that he's not holding a handkerchief.

"Ahh! Blimey! Look! Look! Look what's come out f me 'ooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!"

The other trolls gathered around to look.

"What is it?" asked Tom.

"I don't know, but I don't like the way it wriggles around!" exclaimed William. He shook the snot-covered Bilbo off the napkin and onto the ground.

"What are you? An oversized squibble?" asked Tom.

"I'm a burglar- uh, hobbit!"

"A Burglar-hobbit?

"Can we cook 'im?" asked Tom

"We can try!" William said.

William tried to grab Bilbo, but he dodged, only to be cornered by Bert. "He wouldn't make more than a mouthful, not when he's skinned and boned!" the troll exclaimed.

"Perhaps there's more Burglar-hobbits around these parts. There might be enough for a bite!"

"Grab him!"

"He's too quick!"

They tried to catch him, but the hobbit ran around them, trying to dodge them. Bert accidently hit William with his ladle while trying to hit Bilbo. They eventually caught him around the legs, holding him upside down in the air.

"Come here you little… Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?"

"N-No!"

"He's lying!" said William.

"No I'm not!" Bilbo insisted.

"Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!" said William.

Kili suddenly rushed out of the bushes, slicing William in the leg and making him fell.

"Drop him!" Kili shouted.

"You what?" Tom demanded.

"I said… _drop him!_"

Tom threw Bilbo at Kili and they both fell. The Company charged out of the bushes, yelling and brandishing their weapons. They began fighting the trolls, hacking, slashing, and hammering their legs.

Rildri's sword hilt as made of pure gold, gems incrusted in the cross-guard. The blade was silver, and his shield was gold outlined with rubies. The metals glimmered and sparkled and reflected the light of the fire. He slashed and spun, dodging the blows of the trolls with balance and ease.

As they fought, Bilbo cut the ropes and set the ponies free. Seeing this, Tom grabbed Bilbo. The dwarves stopped fighting, seeing that the hobbit was being held by the arms and legs.

"Bilbo!" Kili shouted.

"Lay down your arms, or we rip his off!" Tom said.

Thorin looked at Bilbo with frustration before throwing his weapons to the ground. The others reluctantly did the same.

Rildri hesitated. He looked up, then saw Bilbo's terrified face. Then he dropped the sword and shield into the pile, scowling.

No, he wasn't angry at the hobbit.

He was angry that he hadn't saved him first.

•••

"Why bother cooking them? Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly," said William.

"They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage," said Bert.

"Ooh, that does sound quite nice!"

The dwarves were either tied to a spit, roasting over a fire, or tied up in a bag. Rildri was tied up between Kili and Gloin. The bags smelled awful and he nearly threw up.

"Never mind the seasoning; we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far way, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Bilbo heard and got an idea. "W-Wait! You are making a terrible mistake!"

"You can't reason with them they're half-wits!" Dori cried.

"Half-wits?" Bofur called. "What does that make us?"

Bilbo managed to stand up, although he was still tied up. He faced the trolls, "I meant with the, uh, with the seasoning."

"What about the seasoning?" Bert asked.

A flash of light drew Rildri's eyes to the trees. He saw yellow eyes, watching them. His own narrowed and he shook his head.

"Well, have you smelt them?" Bilbo asked. "You're going to need something stronger than safe before you plate this lot up."

The dwarves shouted at Bilbo, calling him a traitor as the sacked dwarves kicked him. Rildri was too occupied by the eyes in the trees.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" Tom demanded.

"Shut up," said Bert. "Let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk."

"Uh, the secret to cooking dwarf is um-:

"Yes? Come on, tell us the secret!"

"Um, yes, I'm telling you, the secret is… to skin them first!"

"WHAT!?"

"We'll skin _you!_"

The dwarves shouted objections, threatening to beat and kill Bilbo.

"Tom, get me the filleting knife," said Bert.

Suddenly there was a loud howl. The trolls paused; the howl sounded like that of a great wolf. The dwarves stopped and were tense.

"Wolves will devour us if these trolls don't!" Oin exclaimed.

Suddenly a blackish-brown wolf leapt from the trees and into the clearing. It was larger than a regular wolf, and its eyes were bright and yellow. Dark, large wings sprung from its back, and it crouched, snarling.

The dwarves cried out. The wolf leaped at William's face, and the troll screamed. When the wolf hit the ground again, blood was running down the troll's face, and he was clutching his eye.

"Catch him!" Bert shouted, and the wolf rose on its hind legs, howling again. Tom reached for it and his hand closed around the feral animal, only to be bitten. He screamed and let go, and the wolf dropped to the ground.

"Mildri! Stop it!" Rildri yelled.

Kili stared at him. "_Mildri?_" Thorin and Gloin looked at him. Rildri ignored them, watching the wolf worriedly.

"_THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!_"

Their attention was drawn to Gandalf, who stood on a high rock. Raising his staff, he struck the rock and the stone broke in two; sunlight poured in, and the trolls screamed. Their skin turned gray until their movements froze and they were completely stone.

The dwarves felt relieved, but now they focused on the wolf.

They cried out as the wolf collapsed, taking the shape of a boy. Mildri now took the wolf's place, bloody and his clothes torn. He kneeled on the ground, pressing his forehead against the ground in pain.


End file.
